


I knew you were trouble

by vermicious_knid



Category: Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954), The Brides of Dracula (1960), The Curse of Frankenstein (1957), The Mummy (1959)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vermicious_knid/pseuds/vermicious_knid
Summary: Aside from dealing with vampires left and right, Carolyn Ann Strauss (former pupil of Van Helsing) also has to deal with mad scientists on a regular basis. And not just any mad scientist - one annyoing individual in particular.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically a love letter to old Hammer horror movies and my unrelenting villain/hero shipping obsession

 

 

Aside from dealing with vampires left and right, Carolyn Ann Strauss (former pupil of Van Helsing) also has to deal with mad scientists on a regular basis. And not just any mad scientist - one annyoing individual in particular. But we'll get to that in a minute. Even though she and Van Helsing didn’t always see eye to eye, (sexist remarks over tepid cups of tea) they sometimes exchanged work assignments to spice things up a little. It can get ever so tiresome to always smell of garlic and have to carry holy water with you wherever you go. The latter was too easy to mistake for drinking water, and the former smelled godawful. 

She’d come to live with him from the age of 12, after her parents had died in a mysterious house fire in the outskirts of London. Apparently her father had been a good friend of Van Helsing, and he felt obliged to take her in, rather than letting her go to the workhouse. Needless to say he wasn’t exactly thrilled about it.

He hadn’t taken her on as a pupil until that fateful day in October – she fought off a vampire by luring him into the furnace of their town house cellar. How she ever managed it, he still hadn’t quite figured out. Maybe it was the result of playing so much with those Grimm brothers from across the road – those boys imagination was both macabre and pratical...

 

* * *

 

It can be a little harrowing to deal with vampires, and zombies are always a more interesting challenge. One day she’d strolled into Van Helsings office, where he was watering his carnivorius plants. They had taken to biting his fingers lately and had to resort to wearing thick gloves. He’d informed her of Baron Frankenstein and his meglomaniac ways of digging up corpses to put them together like a grizly game of jigsaw puzzle. Endangering both himself and the people around him, to boot. Since he was too busy as it was to deal with it, he was offering the assignment to her.

 

_The event that bloody started it all._

 

”I want you to bring him back to England, to face legal charges.” he’d said, airily, almost as if they were discussing wheter it was going to rain or not. The old gizzard was like that sometimes.

 

”Well, that can’t be too difficult. ” She’d replied. Famous last words. Then she’d packed her bags and headed off to Germany, where the Baron’s mansion allegedly was. The monster he’d released was gone when she came there though, but the good Baron wasn’t.

 

He’d even greeted her at his own house, the smug bastard. She hadn’t expected that – his arrogance. It was almost unprecedented.

 

See, Carolyn was used to dealing with strange people. Scientists in her experience, were small, frail and easy to deal with. Dr. Caligari had actually whimpered when she found him in his tent. Dr. Pretorious went willingly, as long as he got to keep his flask of gin.Perhaps it was because she was a woman. She didn’t like to consider that too much, since she was already painfully aware of being one of the few female paranormal investigators in the world at present. But instead of bemoaning the fact, it helped achieve a certain element of surprise. Usually, she just broke down the door of said evil doer, put a burlap sack over their heads and either staked/exorcised/or dragged them out to face the local police force. It was getting to be quite the rutine.

 

And now, she has been chasing Frankenstein across Europe and east asia for the past 7 years. Why so long, you might ask?

It was not that Carolyn was a bad paranormal investigator/bounty hunter. It was almost commendable of him to be this slippery. She tried and sometimes even suceeds in apprahending him, but he always escapes - like an oily ferret. Carolyn would blame it on his dastardly skinny wrists (handcuffs were useless on him) but actually it was more than that. The man actually proved to be pretty damn intelligent. It was a bit of a curse and a blessing mixed together.

It was nice to find someone in the same business (in a manner of speaking…) who wasn’t a complete dullard. It was just very inconvinent that he had to be so evil.

The first time they met, was in 1818. It was around the time of his first human experiments with the dead. it was all opera cues and harsh violin strings back then. Very dramatic, both parties hating the other with a burning passion in a matter of mere seconds. Well, she had a running start of five days, since she already knew about his murderous nature towards his female staff. That didn’t exactly warm a girl’s heart.

 

The first visit had been nothing but a social call. A warning, you could say, of things to come.

 

* * *

 

”Good afternoon, good lady. How may I help you?” 

 

Her first visual impression of the man wasn't very remarkable. Mostly she was just impressed that he was still around, even after having been wanted for murder of at least two people. 

 

”I’ve come to see the Baron. I’ve heard of his work.”

 

”I am he – how nice to meet a female admirer.” he said, smiling pleasantly.

 

”But I did not say that I _admired_ your work, herr doctor.” That soured his approving look right away, and Carolyn beamed at him.

 

Since there was no maid present, he helped her off with her jacket and put in on a peg in the front hall. He kept staring at her. He could have been staring at her clothes - the pants meant for a man and the thick furlined leather coat. But he must have known why she had come.

 

”I trust you will stay for tea?” he asked dryly, in no way actually wanting this to happen. She shrugged.

 

”Who would serve us? I heard you had some trouble with the maid.” she said, hoping to rattle him into a revealing reaction. He just turned away from her and started stoking the fire in the fireplace.

 

”Thankfully, It’s easy to find hired help for someone of my stature.”

 

”I would imagine so. Disposable too.” he looked at her sharply. _Oh ho, so he did know what she was talking about._

 

”People come and go, Mrs Strauss. ” he said, a strong warning in his voice. 

 

”So I’ve heard – and it’s Miss. What ever happened to that professor I wonder?” she asked, probingly. She was referring to the professor who had mysteriously fallen down the steps in this very house. The same man whose brain was reported missing soon after his death. 

 

But the dear, daft little doctor didn’t miss a beat.

 

”He retired early.” he answered pleasantly. What a comedian.

 

”Yes, and I’m sure he’s left his... _work_ , in your capable hands.” she said, sitting down in one of the plush chairs in front of the fireplace, smiling demurely. Frankenstein carried a tray of tea and biscuits to a small table next to the chair, putting it down with a pointed thud. He flexed his fingers a few times before serving her a cup, then pouring one for himself. 

 

”I must say, it’s brave for a young woman like yourself to be traveling alone.” the threat in this reply was about as transparant as an elephant wearing a purple sundress. She batted her lashes and smiled pointedly before taking a delicate sip of her tea. 

 

”I thank you for the concern, but I’m more than capable.”

 

”Still, could be very dangerous for someone as….forward as you. Bad things happen around here.”

 

”Yes they do don’t they? I hate when that happens.”

* * *

 

The rest of the events from that visit were like a penny dreadful nightmare. Or more like a penny dreadful comedy.

 

She, the white knight in a sheeplined jacket and golden hair and him, the terrible blackclad villain sans ridiculous laughter but with his tanks of dissolving acid and re-animated monsters - steely and calculated, a person completely incapable of selfless action.

 

He’d tried to strangle her in the lobby shortly after the visit, which was of course very rude of him and she told him as such. 

 

She still vividly remembers it – the basement labratory late at night with the thunder booming outside, the traded remarks about bad timing and what a lady ought not to see. When the actual fight had begun, at first he only tried to block her hands – which was pretty insulting. Finally she’d pushed him to the floor and he’d huffed.

 

"if we're going to fight properly at least hit me like you actually know what your doing!"

 

And surprisngly, he obliged her.

 

they'd almost fought to the death then, pulling hair and getting in some really good punches (which he had remarked with some level of surprise)- shed stabbed him in the leg and he'd cracked two of her ribs. They both fought with an almost childish urge to win, But she'd arrested him, in the end. Ha. Ha. Ha.

 

"its nothing personal" she'd told him through the bars to his cell, her face still bruised, shiner glistening. He was no better, arm in a cast and a nasty cut to his forehead – glaring at her as if he wished the earth would swallow her whole.

 

his parting words had been "I hope I see you in hell" Ah, such a way with words.

 

”You should write more poetry Mr. Baron, if all your words are this memorable.”

 

Oddly, she got the distinct feeling that he was still, somehow, impressed. By what though, she couldnt imagine. Oh well, the case was solved she figured, so what did it matter?

 

Two weeks later, she was informed that he’d escaped his own execution and she almost bit through her own tounge on her way to the train that would take her back to Germany.

 

* * *

A few months went by. She continued her work in London, continuing to aid Van Helsing whenever she could – though the man was sometimes too stuffy for his own good. It didn’t matter how many vampires she staked or how many werewolfs she hunted down on her own – Abraham would always be sneering at her for some reason or other.

Mainly, she suspected it was because she was more avid than he was at times. Instead of just researching all the time, she actually liked to take action and do something about the problem. She was more hands on and didn’t flinch at nasty fluids like he did. She wasn’t very british in that way ( _but Carolyn, think of the germs!_ ).

A little voice in the back of her mind reminded her that _the baron_ hadn't judged what she said or did. Which was such a ridiculous thought that she slapped herself and made herself sit in the corner like a naughty child.

She had just finished a trip to Austria, when she found out that a _mysterious someone_ had set free a confused mummy on the townspeople of Salzburg. From where she’d just left. Of course. Groaning out loud, she’d turned to her assistant, Jimmy. The poor young man she’d hired because Van Helsing had refused to have him at the office after he’d been too careless with a jar of preserved apricots. Jimmy flinched at the rage induced expression on her face, poor sod.

 

”Jim jim, pack my bags. Again.”

Just to be on the safe side, she decided to bring him along with her on this trip – one thing she’d learned with Frankenstein was that it was always better if you tracked him down with a collegue. Not that Jimmy was the smartest man alive, but he had his uses. He could boil tea like it was nobody’s business and recite Hamlets monologue at the drop of a hat – which served as an excellent diversion on more than one occation. Dracula as it turns out, was an avid fan of Shakespeare even at the worst of times.

* * *

 

But yet again, things turned out very different from what she had imagined.

 

When she had arrived at Dussledorf, Instead of her looking all over town for him, he showed up at her rented townhouse the very next morning, fresh as a bloody daisy.

 

”What the actual blazes.” she’d said when she opened the door, still in her nightgown but with a crossbow in one hand. He was like an infested tick you couldn’t get rid off.

 

He raised his eyebrows at her use of language (ignoring the crossbow) , but held up one black gloved hand and smiled politely. But when he smiled, his face looked skeletal and henious.

 

”I have come to offer you a deal. May I come in?”

 

Carolyn’s face reddened with anger and indignation. Her blonde hair bristled.

 

”No you bloody well will not!”

 

Behind her, Jimmy coughed and reminded her that they were all british and this simply would not do. And besides, he had already made tea enough for a small army. Rolling her eyes, she lazily waved in inside.

 

”Fine, come in then.”

 

The Baron took off his hat and looked around in the large foyer as Carolyn was busy still pointing the crossbow at his face.

 

”This is a fine place. Your employer must be very well off.” he said in clipped tones. She gnashed her teeth.

 

”I work alone.”

 

Jimmy coughed and looked very much offended.

 

”Ahem.”

 

”With Jimmy, but that’s almost the same thing. Now then, before i decide to pummel you, you better explain why you’ve come.”

 

With the tip of his finger, he pointed the crossbow away from his face like it was an old sock in much need of cleaning. Ah, the germs again.

 

”I’m a well respected doctor in this town you know. I’d be very unhappy to let that go. And yet at the same time I am plagued by these older women trying to pawn off their supposedly eligable daughters on me. You could see how stressful that is.”

 

”More stressful than being a fugitive of the law?” she grumbled. The baron smiled at this and walked across the living room floor casually and stopped at the mantelpiece, inspecting some of the carved animals of black lava stone that Carolyn had brought with her from London. They were a late birthday gift from Kay, a past client whom she’d helped urgently with a ambibian problem in the amazon jungle.

 

He picked up the little crocodile and turned it side to side, seemingly fascinated.

 

”You can’t imagine. Anyway as I was saying, tomorrow night there is going to be a ball. I am expected to show up, and I must to keep up apperances.” He put the figure down and turned back around to face her.” Though I will in all probabilty be pestered all night with tearful marriage proposals and bosoms being shoved at me.” he said solemnly while somwhere inside, Carolyn was smirking at how pompous he was. ” I’d like for it to stop.”

 

”What do you want?”

 

”Well, I wouldn’t be bothered anymore if I proved that I was no longer a bachelor. If I was engaged already.” It took her a second to understand what he was trying to tell her. When she did understand, her face morphed into a shape worthy of Edvard Munch. 

 

” _No_.”

 

”And that is why you would accompany me, as my betrothed.”

 

Gag. Where was a waste basket when you needed it?

 

The silence in the room that follows is long and pregnant and nobody except Baron Frankenstein is having a good time.

 

”And what would I get out of this?” Carolyn managed to grind out, rubbing her temple while leaning on the crossbow, not really caring at this point should it accidentally fire off. She would sooner die than be in any way romantically involved with this man. 

 

”The ball ends at midnight. At that time, I will give you an honest chance to apprahend me, and I will give you the location of my labratory.” he said, clasping his hands in front of him innocently.

 

”How can I be sure you aren’t lying? Why not just arrest you right now?” she asked, beyond tempted. The doctor smiled smugly and she wanted to slap his face to kingdom come.

 

”Then you won’t know where I’ve hidden the creature, will you?”

 

Jimmy has to physically restrain her from clawing his infuriating face off for that, but he is right – this is a risk she’s going to have to take. For queen and country.

 

But that does not mean she gets to like it.

* * *

he next morning he sends over a white, frilly virginal thing of a dress that he foolishly expects her to wear. She throws it to Jimmy, who almost is swallowed by white lace and ruffles. His way of laughing at her, of course. But he has forgotten – she already beat him once.

 

”Do something with this.” she mutters as she passes by his room on the second floor, on the way to a training session in the basement.

 

”Yes M’am.”

 

Amongst other things, Jimmy is quite the magician when it comes to clothing. He manages to dye the fabric blood red. The expression on the Baron’s face when he comes over to pick her up later that evening is something she’ll be laughing about for years.

 

At the party, not suprisingly, he tries to move in and kiss her once. He says its to keep up apperances. She stops him with one white gloved hand over his mouth (which hey, is surprisngly soft – they always looked so chapped). He blinks down at her, as if surprised. The nerve on that man...

 

”And what is it you think you’re doing?” she asks.

 

”Acting the part of an amorous man?” he says, his eyes unnervingly blue that night. 

 

”Over my dead body you are.”

 

”You know, That can be arranged.”

 

”Okay, _that’s_ disguisting.”

 

”Oh dearest, you’ve seen nothing yet.”

 

Why that makes her laugh she doesn’t know, because she’s so angry, but she does. It does a funny thing to the Barons face, to see her smiling like that without venom for once.

* * *

He managed to escape that time, but only just. It _was_ pretty devious of him to pour a vomiting potion in her drink, and she would have been angrier with him if he hadn’t made sure that she got home first safe and sound before he took off again like a demon on wheels.

Hunched over the toilet in the marbled bathroom, then and there she decided that he would be her arch nemesis from that day forward til the day she died.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

She hunts him all the way to the mountains of Tibet when she hears that he has stolen a precious amulet that can bring the dead back to life.

 

It just so happens that Tibet is one of the coldest places on earth – and it is not ideal to go dashing about in the mountains in no jacket save for a smelly poncho and a pair of shoddy boots with holes in the bottom.

 

She discovers the error in this only when she is literarry centimeters from catching him boarding a carriage in one of the smaller villages.

 

”You are under ah-ah-BLAUURGH-rrest!” she bellows, and then coughs. Violently. 

 

The frozen look of shock he had been sporting a moment ago vanishes into thin air. Paused on the steps of his carriage, dressed in an impressive fur-lined overcoat, he looks at her standing there in the snow with no small amount of amusement.

 

”I’m sorry, would you mind repeating that so you can cough up your other lung?”

 

She glares at him and is about to reply, but that unfortunately, does not happen. 

And then of course, she faints.

* * *

 

Next time she wakes up, she’s lying under about 14 layers of quilts on a small bed in a fire-lit room. Victor puts a spindly hand on her forehead to check her temperature with more gentleness than she thought him capable of. She almost flinches under his touch, but he doesn't notice. 

 

”You have pneumonia.”

 

”I feel absolutely fine.”

 

”There’s mucus in your lungs and you have a high fever.”

 

"It's not that bad."

 

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

 

”Seventeen, easy. Hey, Is that why the room is spinning?”

 

”Close your eyes for a little while, and I’ll read to you.”

* * *

 

He stays with her in the tiny cabin for about 1,5 weeks. He is never far off when she wakes, dizzy with fever or shaky with cold. He is either writing in one of his journals or preforming some small experiment in the room. It is the longest time they’ve spent together, but neither takes particular note of this. He acts the part of the sensible doctor and she submits to his bedside manner – for the most part.

Being sick for Carolyn could for all intents and purposes be called "age regression" instead, because that's what happens everytime she is taken ill. When Victor comes to give her the medicine she hides under the covers and groans at him like a ghoul. As he tries to lift them she tucks them in tighter around herself and she can hear his silent fuming at her behavior. Even if they are doctor and patient, they are still enemies after all. 

"Take your medicine."

"No."

"Yes."

"I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Because you didn't ask me nicely."

"Oh for the love of - "

They keep on bickering this way for the duration of her being ill in that little cabin. It doesn't occur to her to ask why he is even doing any of it at all until the last few days. He is making some tea on a makeshift stove when the question finally comes. 

"Why even help me get better? Just throw me out in the snow and nature would make a quick job of me." he sits down in the chair next to the small bed, folding his long legs and drinks his tea without looking at her. 

"Perhaps I don't want you dead." 

"That...I don't know what to make of that remark."

"At least, I don't think it's worthy of either me or you, to let something as stupid as a treatable illness waste you away."

"Huh, well. Thank you I guess..."

 

* * *

 

its not until hes got her chained to the wall of his new lab two years later that she realizes that the man is completely in love with her. The revelation hits her on the head like that large boulder did a few hours ago.

”Oh my god.” she murmurs out loud.

 

”What was that?” he had asked, bent over a table with loaded with surgical tools and various body parts.  


”Uh, nothing – just realized that your face is still shaped like an ostrich egg.”

 

Of course just because you realize someone is in love with you doesn’t mean that you act on it. Especially if it involves your arch nemesis.

 

* * *

 

Then a year later, she realizes with no small amount of dread that she loves him back.

 

She had to save him from the clutches of Dracula (seriously, when will he ever just DIE) and got really possessive because, _excuse moi_ , nobody else gets to stab Victor in the back but herself. It was by mere chance that she discovered him in one of the dungeon cells, in a heap of tweed and blood on the floor. Dracula wanted him for some sort of experiment involving his brides. Eugh.

 

When he got a glimpse of his rescuer though, the Baron groaned in annoyance like his maid was waking him too early.

 

”Just leave.” he moaned dramatically before lying down again in the filth.

 

”You know, as much as I hate to admit it – not even you deserves to die in the hands of that demon.”

 

It became apparent very quickly that there had been some sort of mixup. Dracula never intended to kidnap Victor, but Van helsing. It hadn’t occured to her until just then how similar they both were in apperances – though Helsing was slightly older, and more wrinkly. And he didn’t smell as nice.

 

_Because the baron, even dirtied up and covered in blood, smells like spices and nitroglycerin._

 

When Dracula tried to stop their escape and yelled out something like ”the doctor is mine!” Carolyn gets so enraged that she did something she thought she’d never do -

 

She kneed him soundly in the balls, and watched him choke and clutch at his neither regions, tumble down the ravine, still clutching his manhood. If she hadn’t been so tired and angry at the time, it would have been really funny. The baron had slung his other arm over her shoulder, looking at her for a beat with something like respect in his eyes.

 

Of course, how can you NOT respect the person who kneed dracula in the balls.

 

 

”Let’s get out of here.”

 

Even if it means getting arrested, the baron is more comfortable with the idea of that than spending another night in Draculas castle. 

* * *

 

 

A hop, skip and a prison breakout later, she realizes that the doctor has no idea that he loves her like he does.

 

So she attempts an experiment of her own. 

 

She makes sure that she doesn’t have time to chase him for awhile, in order to deal with Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Both terrible poker players and hard to track down. Oh, and Hyde has a special affection for lost teddy bears and stealing silver ashtrays. And the baron, without her constant attention just…loses it. He writes her a telegram that is delivered just the day before the 5th of November, the bonfires across London dramatic and fitting enough for his letter.

 _To Carolyn Strauss, the bane of my existance._ It says on the envelope.

 

_I thought I should let you know that I have made great progress in your absence, and I hope that this silence on your end will presist until that I am done with my work._

 

_Many thanks and well wishes -_

 

_B. Frankenstein_

 

The first letter is in no way very significant. It’s actually very like him, and she doesn’t really think much more about it and does not send a reply. And how can you, when someone dangerous called Jack is running loose on the streets, leaving blood and mayhem in his wake?

She and Van Helsing spend an intense two months hunting him down, and there is almost no time to think about the Baron at all. This of course, means that the Baron loses what little sanity he has left.

 

When the seventh telegram in a week arrives, again announcing his own brilliance and desperate attempts at attention seeking (weather is fine, wish you were here) she writes him back.

 

_If you are so keen on getting my attention, why don’t you just show up at my office? Buried under work as it is, could do with a distraction._

 

_No thanks and several knee-punches_

_C. Strauss_

 

She didn’t actually expect the snarky git to take her up on her semi serious offer. But she should have known he would do exactly that, just to further annoy her. He showed up with a small bouqet of violets, which Jimmy saved before she could throw the damn things in a bin (but she did say thank you for them.)

 

”You can’t be here!” she says like an idiot, because that doesn't mean he will simply vanish. 

 

”On the contrary, I can. Sherry?”

 

”What is it with you and your damn sherry, put that down!” she orders, and he complies, instead opting to snoop around her office. He inspects the paintings on the walls like a goddamn art critic, like she has paid him to value them or something. 

 

”I was severely disappointed when you didn’t show up in Minsk you know. I did some brilliant work there – all lost now I’m afraid.” he says, and sighs a little sadly. She snorts to herself and sits down at her desk once more, finishing a letter to a client in order to stay calm and collected with him around. 

 

”Yes, I am sure it was indeed. Another notch in the post of dead bodies more like. ”

 

”Myself amongst them, I might add.” 

_Wait, what?!_

”You ressurected yourself? That’s not even possible.” she exclaims and he invites himself to sit down in the client chair, head tilted just so. Something decidely eerie comes over his face and she resists a shudder. 

 

”You know, for a paranormal investigator you carry a disturbing lack of faith. ”

 

”Why are you here?”

 

”You said I could come, if your note was correct.”

 

”Yes but...ugh. Fine – I’m too tired to hand you off to prison right now anyway.” which is true, can't Van Helsing deal with this lunatic for once? They share the building, he must have noticed Frankenstein coming and going at some point. She is so lost in her own thoughts regarding how to dump him on her colleague that she doesnt notice that Frankenstein has come to observe some very special paintings on the wall behind her desk.  _Damn, he moves faster than an eel._

 

”This is excellent work.” he says, voice coming directly from her left. He is talking about the amature doodles she did in finishing school, years ago now. Embarrassed she turns to look at his reaction of them, rather than directly at the paintings. He seems fascinated - like with the animal sculptures back in Salzburg. 

 

”Uh, thank you.” she says quietly. 

 

”Might I inquire if you studied with a master?”

 

”For that, no. I’ve always liked to paint – when I’m not researching or hunting scaly creatures that is.” _Which is all the time these days._

 

He leaves with the promise that she will send him one of her paintings, inbetween charged handshakes and lethal promises.

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

”So Mr. Jekyll, what have we learned this time?”

 

”That women are sneaky, especially those in leather pants.”

 

”Come now, that’s a poor insult.”

 

”..And who quotes herself when she thinks she has done something right. ”

 

”You’re saying I’m not allowed to gloat about this?”

 

”Strauss, if I ever get out of here….”

 

”Yeah, yeah. You’ll tear me apart and eat my eyeballs for breakfast – say hello to the lovely orderlies for me!”

 

After Carolyn had dumped Mr. Jekyll off at the sanatorium (where he would spend an indefinate sentence recovering from drug addiction and temporary madness) she set off _the_ _hardboiled_ _carrot_ , her favorite pub. It was late at night, and it had taken quite some time to wrestle Mr. Jekyll out of his not so secret hide-out in an opium den. Really, it was just a matter of following the empty vials lying in heaps on the floor like bread crumbs.

 

Luckily, she caught him on an ”off” day when Hyde wasn’t present. She had timed his and Hyde’s activities very carefully over the last few days, and knew there would be a small window of time to make a move, but it was always an uncertainty – sooner or later, Mr, Jekyll would cease to be no more.

 

Now that it was all done with, and the fog of london was swishing at her ankles, she really felt like she could use a drink.

 

* * *

 

So, maybe it wasn’t just one drink. It had been awhile since she’d had good ale, and the hardboiled carrot would always give her a discount if she namedropped Van Helsing ever so casually – the barman lit up like a debutant at a mayfair parade.

 

”Oh, anything for that good man!” he’d say, his chunky cheeks blushing.

 

Unlike herself, he had a much more renowned reputation as a doctor, not a monster-chaser. He had probably saved the barman from choking on a stuffed olive or something equally heroic. Was Carolyn ever that heroic? Eh, debatable. At least she put the _real_ monsters away so they couldnt hurt anyone.

 

”Oi lass, aint that too much for ye?”

 

”You wanna bet?”

 

And so maybe she got involved in a really stupid drinking game with five irishmen on shore leave, because that’s what you do when you’re a proper victorian lady right? Embroidering cushions and playing the piano was just pratically rebellious really.

 

”Drink, drink, drink!”

 

Two hours later she well on her way of becoming five sheets to the wind. The men had either fallen asleep, thrown up their entrails or left the bar, while she sat under one of the tables, clutching a bottle of whiskey like it was a life preserver. The occational hiccup left her mouth, which must have been what made it possible for him to find her. _Other than the fact that he was a super supreme stalker who probably knew the color of her breeches._

 

At first she only saw his boots, shiny and black. Then he poked at her foot on the floor with his walking stick, and she made a noise like a disgruntled piglet. She looked up and saw a familiar, angular face smiling at her, eyes twinkling.

 

”Ah, there you are.”

 

”Were you expecting me?” she whispered drunkenly.

 

”Not tonight. You seem to be preoccupied.”

 

”I had a little bit to drink.”

 

”Hmm, yes. Perhaps even more than a little bit. ”

 

”Have I ever told you about...heh...the lazerus pit in India?”

 

”The what?”

 

”Oh its just this pit in india which Im definitely not supposed to tell you about. Because that would be bad.”

 

”Oh, I’m sure you can tell _me_.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning she woke up with a hangover worth to write about on tombstones, and an angry knock on her bedroom door announcing Van Helsing and his patented speech, beginning with the words ”I told you so...”

 

And suprising her with (for once) being on top of things. He had found out that Victor was on his merry way to India by train from France, and did she happen to know why he was going to THAT particular place?

 

Her response of course, was to puke all over his expensive tweed slippers.

 


	4. Chapter 4

They say that Paris in the spring time is lovely don’t they?

 

But Catacombs in Paris however, will always be smelly and muddy, no matter what the weather above is like.

 

Carolyn had the unfortunate luck of having to go down there, chasing a fool of a magic practisioner who thought that it was a wonderful idea to run off with the ancient egyptian scripts that might actually cause a casual apocalypse. She had been meant to retrieve it from a fellow associate of hers, a Mr. John Banning. But upon arrival at his hotel ( he was staying overnight for a conferance at the history museum about ancient relics) she found Mr. Banning knocked out and the scripts missing from their protective case.

 

Her keen eyes had caught sight of a man running away from the hotel with a very suspicious, paranoid expression on his face, and Carolyn had started chasing after him.

* * *

 

Hellsing was supposed to have gone with her down to the catacombs but he started mumbling something about his expensive leather boots. Seriously, can you even count on gentlemen for anything?

 

If she had known that Victor Frankenstein was waiting for her down in those musky, damp corridors she would have let the world burn. She managed to catch up to the silly french man and the scriptures and pinned him against a wall – very much intent on beating names out of him when she noticed that they were far from being alone down there.

 

Next to the pillar they were standing was a larger room, where market tents with black fabric as roofs were standing. Normal people and not so normal people were walking around the tents, barganing and pointing.

 

”What is this place?” she hissed to the frenchman, who quivered and told her that it was a secret place to sell illegal goods – like magical objects, weapons and rubber chickens. She had just enough time trying to wheedle him for information about his employer when a comossion started around them.

 

Someone who looked like a very flamboyant pirate ran past them, yelling gibberish in french that sounded vaguely alarming. Carolyn and her frenchman stared as he ran past, and then she turned to him for a translation.

 

”Uh, he said something about a stone.”

 

”A stone? Is someone that afraid of regular rocks down here?”

 

”Not the stone itself, but the people coming to get it – a doctor in black!”

 

A doctor in black? Hmm. That sounded just a little too familiar.

 

”Wait a minute….”

 

And sure enough, when the fleeing crowd cleared – a group of mysterious men appeared flanked by a very familiar looking Baron.

 

Carolyn, without really thinking much about it, dropped the frenchman to the floor and approached her nemesis. It was only cordial to greet him, now that they had spotted each other. To the other men’s surprise and astonishment, he did the same to go to her. They were obviously just about to escape the catacombs as well, and it was obvious that they had fought hard for something that the Baron was after. Which he was now fine with ignoring for the moment just to see her.

 

”Baron!” she exclaimed, genuinely surprised to see him. He smiled and his dull eyes glittered in the dark.

 

”Carolyn.”

 

She put her hands on her hips and put on an air of cockiness that she couldn’t help while being around him. Her blonde hair fell across her shoulders in ringlets, the remainder of the delicate hairdo from last nights ball at the hotel, now free from bobby pins and constraints.

 

”You know, I thought i might see you here.” she said casually, sarcasm in her voice. The baron had forgotten what personal space was, and was currently standing less than a foot away from her, staring at her in a way that bordered on scandalous.

 

”Did you?” he murmured, voice low _and not seductive at all._

 

Carolyn decided to ignore this and shrugged her shoulders.

 

”It suits you, you know? Dusty and moldy...all these french gargoyles. I swear, I saw one by the entrance you looks just like you.” she said, pointing to his prominent nose. He frowned.

 

”Stop talking, you’re attracting flies again.”

 

”That’s just you I’m afraid. God, what is that smell anyway? She asked, wrinkling her nose.

 

”Dissolving Acid.”

 

”Of course, your calling card. Now the question is, do I bother with you now or do you make another dastardly escape, like last time?”

 

But instead of answering her question, he decided to talk about her hair. He moved one white gloved hand through its curls, gently tugging at it. 

 

”You’ve had it cut.” he commented, and she flushed despite herself.

 

”Oh, more practical this way – why, don’t you approve?”

 

”The way it whipped in my face like a slap was beginning to grow on me.” he said dryly and she giggled. 

 

Victors little henchmen were getting antsy and incredibly confused about the situation. The Baron had displayed a deep and terrifying obsession for this secret stone that he was after, he had shouted at them all just moments ago not to loose focus of where the stone was hidden – and now he was stopping to hava a casual chat with some lady in men’s pants? One of them decided to do something to snap him out of it. Raising his hook-hand, he coughed loudly.

 

 

”Ahem- uh not to interrupt anything but, Victor? Hello, Victor? We have to get going, remember? The eye of anubis?”

 

The henchman next to him shushed him, shaking his head and sighing.

 

”Oh, don’t pay attention to that – its his _arch nemesis_.” he said, as if that was supposed to make sense.

 

”His what now?”

 

”Arch- Nemesis. Yeah, so he tells me. Look at them chopping each other to bits, frightful.”

 

”What do you mean? They’re just talking!”

 

”Exactly.”

 

 


End file.
